


a line we do not cross

by halcyonskies



Series: 100Themes: Dean/Cas [64]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Dark Dean Winchester, Dean Became A Demon, Demon Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know what Cas sticks around for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a line we do not cross

**Author's Note:**

> 100Themes Challenge - #29: Evil

From behind him, there came the sound of whipping cloth.

“Shouldn’t be here, angel,” the man said softly, tilting his face into the breeze. Before him stretched an endless, jagged line of buildings, bright lights and flickering neon as far as the eye could see. From below, only the faintest of noises could be heard, the distant screeching of tires on asphalt and horns blaring. So many people in a hurry . . . and not a one of them going anywhere important.

The warmth of another body sidled up beside him, the hem of a long coat flapping against his own shins as well as the angel’s. Dean’s newest senses had granted him the ability to see many of Castiel’s True features, but he had no desire to observe them. Cas could see all of him now, too – every writhing, wriggling, blackened inch of his True Face. Dean had no desire to know exactly what that looked like either. He only needed to know that it made other demons recoil in fear from his very presence.

“Taking a break?” Castiel asked, as if this was just a normal conversation and they were just two normal people.

“Yeah, figured I’d snag one while I could. Blood _stinks,_ man.”

Cas offered nothing more; whether that was out of disgust or a simple lack of anything else to say, Dean didn’t know. But the angel didn’t leave, either, didn’t even move. Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see the other’s hands buried deeply in his coat pockets, a very human gesture Dean had never gotten the chance to see develop. As far as he could remember, he’d been on his own for just a little over two years now.

“So.” Dean made a show of stretching out the hard lines of his body, arms over his head, like he didn’t even feel that familiar itch under his skin. To bury a blade in somebody, to get a knife in _Cas_ – _to see what it’d be like to make such a righteous angel sing . . ._ “There a reason you decided to come perch on my shoulder?”

The angel didn’t answer. He never did. And still they always ended up here, two beings sworn to destroy each other and never quite managing it. Maybe it was the human bits of him that would never be completely scrubbed away, but Dean had long since realized they would _always_ end up here, one way or another.

“Good talk, buddy.” He slapped a hand down on Cas’ shoulder – such an old, ingrained movement – and disappeared before he could feel the sting on his skin.


End file.
